Old Ghosts II
by Captain Weirdo
Summary: Don't bother reading this one.
1. Chapter 1

**TURN BACK NOW. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**This story is a sequel to Old Ghosts. I wrote it in response to three different challenges. Clarisse Renaldi wanted a happy ending. Pretty Crazy wanted to see more of the womanizing Rupert and MellieD just wanted some bow-chicka-wah-wah. **

**So, in a no doubt vain attempt to please everyone, I came up with this. It's just trash. No plot, no substance, don't even waste your time. Seriously, there's nothing to see here. Move along…**

**Too bad that other people own all these characters. They are no doubt appalled at the baseless drivel I've written about them. That could be why I'm making no money from this…**

**What? You're still here? Well, fine, then. Go ahead and read it. But don't say I didn't warn ya.**

**oooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo**

The knock at the door barely registered with the Queen -- she was absorbed in her reading. She called out "Come!" as she turned a page and adjusted her reading glasses. The door opened, but no one entered the room.

"Just set it on the table, Olivia. I won't need you anymore this evening, thank you." She didn't look up.

Joseph cleared his throat demonstrably and stepped across the threshold. Clarisse finally looked up from her book and over the back of the couch. "Oh! Joseph!" She seemed slightly flustered, but pleasantly surprised to see him.

"I hope you don't mind. I was in the kitchen making myself some hot chocolate when Olivia came in to make yours. I told her I would make an extra cup and deliver it."

She smiled and motioned him further into the room. "That was certainly resourceful. I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

He rounded the couch and bent down to set the tray on her coffee table. He was thankful he set it down safely before he caught a glimpse of her. She was wearing a white night shirt. There were generous slits running up each side. Her long, lean legs stretched out from beneath the soft fabric and draped themselves casually across the couch cushions.

He swallowed audibly as his eyes traveled up to the top of the shirt, which was not fully buttoned and laid rather hap-hazardly open across the top of her chest. She didn't seem to notice his discomfiture as she leaned forward to pick up one of the steaming mugs. He tried to rein in his stare. He really did. But he couldn't help himself. The view was worth it, even if she caught him at it.

"Don't just stand there like a butler, Joseph. Sit down!" She patted the couch cushion next to her as she swung her legs off to make room for him. He mumbled his thanks and sat down on the farthest cushion, reaching for his own mug.

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon," she said. She favored him with a wry smile. "It was too bad Sebastian 'crashed' our lunch meeting."

Joseph smiled almost shyly into his mug. "I've always liked the Prime Minister, but his timing is less than perfect," he admitted.

She chuckled to herself, as she reached for her spoon. She began spooning the generous glop of whipped cream off the top of her chocolate and placed it carefully on a saucer.

Joseph watched her for a moment before asking, "You don't like whipped cream?"

"I never eat it," she replied.

"I never knew anyone who didn't like it," he observed.

She was silent for a moment, her spoon poised in mid-air. "I didn't say I didn't like it – I just don't eat it." She dropped the last spoonful onto the small plate.

"How can you keep from eating it?" he asked with a laugh. "It's soooo good." To illustrate his point, he slurped loudly from his own mug. She smiled somewhat thinly at him.

He dipped his finger into the creamy froth and contemplated the whitened tip. "It can also be a delightfully creative substance," he said, ginning at her.

She regarded him thoughtfully over the rim of her mug. "No thank you. Whipped cream has lost any sort of pleasant connotations it ever had for me."

"Why?" He tasted the cream on his finger, oblivious to her reaction to his simple question.

"Catching your husband licking it off the nipples of a house guest tends to sour the substance for you after that," she spoke casually, then took another sip.

"Licking --? What?!" He choked briefly on the steaming liquid.

She shrugged.

"You must be joking," Joseph said when he recovered his voice.

She shook her head. "I told you last night that arranged marriages have problems. Whipped cream is one of those problems."

He coughed and tried to think of some sort of reply. "I can see where that might cause a bit of a dilemma," he finally managed to say.

"A bit," she agreed. She grinned at him then and swung her feet back up on the couch, favoring Joseph with a view that stretched almost to… He ratcheted his eyes back up to meet hers and tried not to appear sheepish. Her smile widened and she motioned from him to put his feet up next to her. He twisted around so his back was against the arm of the couch and matched her pose.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't think of what to say. He closed it again; certain he looked like a goldfish.

"I take it you would like to hear that story?" she asked. Her voice was sarcastic, but her eyes twinkled at him. He nodded mutely and grinned at her.

She stretched and wiggled her toes deeper into the space between the cushions and his hip. And then she began to speak.


	2. Chapter 2

"I turned 18 a week and a half before I married Rupert. He was 29. I had been at all-girls boarding schools most of my life. We'd been engaged for four years, which meant I was a dating pariah for most of my teenage years."

Joseph chuckled.

"Rupert was an international playboy, I suppose. He liked to travel and he liked women. His exploits sometimes made the papers, but more often than not, they made the rumor mill. I didn't worry about it. I thought it was probably a good idea that he get all of that out of his system before he got married and had to settle down.

"I was extremely naive."

She stopped and took another drink of the hot chocolate.

"The honeymoon was certainly interesting. Somewhat reminiscent of getting a four year college degree in a three week summer class. " She raised her mug in rueful toast to the portrait of herself and her husband hanging over the fire place. Joseph laughed softly.

"That was my first experience with the many varied uses of whipped cream. That was my first experience, period. Rupert was very attentive and I was happy. Much happier than I expected to be, actually.

"To be honest, the idea of the marriage scared me to death. I had no idea what to expect. He seemed to sense that and went out of his way to make me feel like a princess." She laughed at that. "Everything was good.

"Then we came back home. Things changed. I was expected to do nothing more mentally challenging than needlework. My job was to stand just behind him and look enraptured at every word that dropped from his lips. I got bored.

"I started working on projects of my own, getting involved in various charities and social work programs. I continued my society duties, planning balls, state dinners and festivals. But I wanted to do something more important. After all, I'd spent all those years in secondary school reading about politics and diplomacy. Silly me, I thought I might need to know those things.

"It wasn't a problem until my picture started showing up in the papers almost as much as Rupert's. I was doing things – important things – that didn't involve him. Until then I had no idea how fragile his ego was. He began to argue with me. I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong. He became more and more distant.

"Later I realized that he was actually just looking for a reason to pull away. I wasn't the only one who was bored. He'd already started having affairs and this was a way to justify it in his own mind."

Joseph took hold of her ankles and moved her feet to his lap. He began to massage her feet. She smiled appreciatively and settled further down into the cushions. After a few more sips of the hot chocolate, she continued her story.

"I had no idea what was happening at first. I just knew that suddenly he didn't seem to want me around. He brushed me off if I ever entered his office. His phone calls seemed to end abruptly when I came into the room. Dinner conversation was strained to non-existent and he spent a lot of time away at 'meetings' in the evenings.

"That was bad enough. But then he started to get nasty with his need to control me." She paused again, tracing a finger along the patterns in the couch cushions. She was quiet for several moments.

"You don't have to tell me this," Joseph said. "It's not really my business."

She didn't look up and continued her study of the fabric. "I care about you. I know you care about me. That means we have to be honest with each other, right?"

"Yes. But the past doesn't matter. Not to me."

She looked him in the eye. "I want you to know. It matters to me."

"Then you have my undivided attention. Carry on."

She took a deep breath. "Just because he didn't want to talk to me didn't mean he wasn't interested in me. And of course, I still had that solemn duty to perform – we needed children.

"It wasn't wine and roses any more. He went out of his way to make his attentions as inconvenient for me as he could. Instead of coming to my room in the evenings, he would stop by my office when I was in the middle of a meeting or working on a project. He would ask if he could interrupt for just a few minutes, as he had 'pressing business' that he needed to 'discuss' with me right away. He made sure that everyone knew what he meant. I would have to acquiesce or be faced with making a public scene. He did his best to make me feel like a whore.

"And it worked. That is exactly what I felt like.

"Then I got pregnant. He was thrilled. At first I thought I couldn't handle it. I didn't want to have his child. I didn't think I could stand to look at something that was such tangible, physical proof of what went on between us. There were a few moments in the first few months, usually right after I'd been horribly sick and was sitting in the bathroom floor, that I hoped I would die. I didn't think he would care that I was dead, but I wouldn't feel so degraded any more and he wouldn't get the child of his dreams.

"It was mostly hormonal, I suppose, because after the first few months I began to bond with Pierre. That wasn't what I called him, though. I was sure he would be a girl." She laughed softly. "I could feel him moving and I began to understand how my activities and moods affected him. I started to love him.

"I decided life wasn't so bad after all. Rupert's behavior improved drastically while I was pregnant. I thought maybe the child was what was needed to pull our marriage back together. Years later I learned that he had been so happy because he'd been afraid he couldn't father a child. Once I was pregnant, he felt like the pressure was off."

"Phillipe was conceived under much happier circumstances. Pierre wasn't quite a year old when I became pregnant the second time. I've always wondered if, or how…" Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words. "Pierre and Phillipe were very different, even as children. I know that's normal, but Pierre had a much quieter, brooding personality. Phillipe was loud, happy, and boisterous. I've always wondered if my emotions, at the time they were conceived or during the pregnancies, had any influence on how their personalities developed."

"Very interesting theory," Joseph said thoughtfully.

"For a few years after the boys were born, he was wonderful. He made sure we spent time together as a family. He quit the philandering, at least as far as I could tell. I thought things were good. The boys adored him. The press adored him. The people adored him. I found him to be rather more than tolerable." She grinned at that.

Joseph smiled back at her. "So the two of you finally became friends and lived happily mostly after?"

She threw back her head and laughed out loud. "Not on your life, Joseph. Our troubles hadn't even started then."


	3. Chapter 3

He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. She returned his gaze for a moment, then swung her legs over his and stood up. She set her now empty mug on the tray and wandered somewhat aimlessly around the room. She was trying to decide how best to tell her story.

"Clarisse," he spoke quietly, his voice caressing her name. He stood and walked over to the bookcase she appeared to be studying. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. His head rested on her shoulder. "Clarisse," he whispered into her neck. He felt her shudder. "I don't care. I can't say I'm not curious, but it doesn't matter. You don't have to tell me."

She turned in his arms to face him, looking into his eyes. She smiled at him and reached up to take his face in her hands. As she brought his lips down to hers, she murmured, "Oh, but it's such a good story, Joseph." His laughing response was lost in her kiss.

The kiss started out tender and sweet. That didn't last.

Within moments their lips were locked in heated battle. The world shrunk to the size of their two bodies, no space in between. She slipped her hands inside his shirt and he moaned her name. He pushed her back against the bookcase, his caresses quickening.

"Oh! OW!"

Joseph pulled away and looked down at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

"I forgot about the spear!"

He jumped back and she moved away from the bookcase, rubbing her shoulder and glaring at a small statue of an Amazon warrior sitting on one of the shelves. The warrior was brandishing a bronze spear.

"Are you ok? No blood?"

She turned her back to him. "I don't know? Is there?" She pulled the collar of her shirt down, baring her creamy shoulder to him.

"No," his voice cracked ever so slightly and she laughed as she pulled the shirt back up over her neck. She slipped out of his arms and went back to sit on the couch.

"This just illustrates something I've always wondered. Rupert always managed to pull off the most, most…interesting stunts with his, ahem, playmates. I couldn't figure out how he made those things work. I would've found it horribly uncomfortable," she said.

Joseph sat down beside her. "So is this part of the really good story you promised?"

"Yes," she answered and took a deep breath.

"Rupert started to change again when Phillipe started school. Up until then, he was terribly attentive and interested in his sons, and by extension, me. But after Phillipe started school, he lost interest and was soon bored. His traveling increased. He started working late again. All the signs were there, but I shut them out; refused to acknowledge them.

"Genovia was changing as well and I chose to see his busyness as a natural extension of his public role. He had things to do. He still treated me well when we were together. There was none of the snide attitude or attempts at humiliation that had marked his behavior before. I just assumed that times had changed and this would be life from now on.

"We started some vigorous trade negotiations with Germany at that time. The German ambassador had a daughter who accompanied him everywhere. She was working as his assistant, more or less, so she stayed here at the palace with her father and sat in on all the meetings. She and Rupert spent a lot of time together.

"You've probably met her, Joseph. She's a minister with the German government now, Adelita Rosenthal?"

"Yes, I think I know who you mean. Blonde hair, blue eyes – looks a little bit like you, actually," he replied.

"Perhaps. Well, I certainly never thought anything was amiss between the two of them. Rupert was busy and tired, and tended to be a little short with me, but nothing serious. We hadn't been intimate for quite some time. I thought he was just too tired.

"The German negotiators had been at the palace non-stop for about three days. I knew Rupert had finally offered them rooms on the guest floor and they were working long hours.

"One night I couldn't sleep. I was tossing and turning. After hours I gave up and decided to go down to the kitchen for a cup of tea. I used the back stairs. Do you know the closet between those stairs and the kitchen door?"

"Yes – the broom closet?"

She reached up and ran a hand through her hair, toying with it as she spoke. "That's the one. When I passed it, I could've sworn I heard something. I really thought it was a giggle."

"A giggle?"

"Most definitely. I decided to ignore it. I assumed it was some of the kitchen staff or, God forbid, Richard, my bodyguard, and one of the maids. He was good at his job, but he spent all his free time chasing women!

"Anyway, I went to the kitchen and made as much noise as I could while searching for something to eat. I put together a snack, waited long enough for the occupants to exit the premises, then opened the door to go back upstairs. That would have been the end of it, and I might have lived happily ever after, but just as I passed the door, she gasped and said his name.

"I didn't even realize what I was doing, but I jerked open the closet door and there he was, His Royal Highness with his royal shorts down around his knees. The lovely Miss Rosenthal was down around his knees as well."

Joseph tried not to smile. His hand covered his mouth and he tried to look away.

"Oh go ahead, laugh," she sighed.

He laughed. "I can't even imagine His Highness in such a situation. Much less getting caught, uh, well…"

"Getting caught with his pants down? He certainly did. I think I threw my plate at him and slammed the door on them. I don't really remember. What I do remember is that Rupert followed me. He was trying to pull his pants up while running up the stairs after me. He kept saying 'Clarisse, wait! It's not what you think!'" She shook her head and stared up at the painting above the fireplace.

Joseph waited for her to continue. Instead she continued to stare at the painting. "So what did you do?" he finally asked.

She jerked her gaze back to him as if she'd forgotten her was there. A slow smile curved her lips. "I made love to him."


	4. Chapter 4

**Still here? Gluttons for punishment, aren't ya? Well, let's get on with it then...**

OOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOO

That was not the answer Joseph expected at all. His surprise was evident on his face. She raised an eyebrow and shrugged her shoulders. "It was either that or kill him. Either one would have been a pleasurable alternative, I suppose. Making love didn't involve my execution, though."

"You were right about one thing," Joseph said, shaking his head uncomprehendingly. "This is one hell of a good story."

"Rupert was all but weeping by the time I got back up here. I tried to lock him out, but the damn footmen let him in. I was so angry I was shaking. He stood just inside the doors, trying to get his shirt back into his pants."

The scene replayed itself in Clarisse's mind as she narrated it to Joseph:

"_Clarisse! Clarisse, please, please listen to me!" Rupert said. _

_The young Queen stood with her back to him, holding her trembling body as she stared into the fire at the hearth. She didn't speak and she wouldn't let him see the tears she fought to keep behind her closed eyelids. When she spoke her voice was surprisingly cold and clam. "What could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear, Rupert? Haven't you humiliated me enough for one evening?"_

"_That wasn't my intention – not at all."_

"_I'm sure that's true. Your intention was to be 'serviced' by the lovely Miss Rosenthal!"_

"_Clarisse! Please! I know I don't deserve to even be standing here right now, but just hear me out," Rupert pleaded with her. _

_She still did not turn to look at him, but she didn't say anything, either. _

"_I knew what I was doing was wrong. I don't care about Adelita! I just… I just…"_

_She turned around then, favoring him with a cold stare. _

_He was caught in her gaze and couldn't tear his eyes away. He sunk to his knees on the floor, the very picture of abject repentance. _

_His voice choked. "I was tired, and angry. I just wanted sex. Someone to - to work out my aggression with. She was willing. I couldn't ask that of you, my darling. Please try to understand," he pleaded._

"_What do you mean, you couldn't ask that of me?"_

"_You're my wife - the mother of my children. I couldn't treat you like that – like a whore. I suppose I was looking for someone to exert some power over. And I am powerless with you. Look at me, Clarisse! I am the King for God's sake, and here I am on my knees, in tears, for you. Only for you!"_

"_This is ridiculous, Rupert," she said. "You are a sad excuse for a man if you really believe what you're saying. You've done nothing but treat me like a whore for years now. I am quite possibly the highest paid harlot in all of Europe. And still that isn't enough for you!"_

"_What?! No! Clarisse, that's not true!" He struggled to his feet and came to stand in front of her. His eyes were almost desperate as they sought understanding in hers. All he could find was anger. He clutched at her forearms. "How can you say that Clarisse? How can you imagine that is all you mean to me?"_

_Her voice was as deadly cold as her icy blue eyes. "You don't love me Rupert. And I don't love you. And whatever feeling might have been possible between us was shattered a long, long time ago."_

"_You're a liar," he stammered. "Whenever we make love, it's different. I can feel your heart. I know you're lying."_

_She laughed now. "Yes, I am a liar, Rupert. I've lied to you every time we've been together. I can do it again."_

_His eyes hardened as well. "I can make you eat those words, Clarisse."_

"_Not in a million years, darling."_

"_Let me show you," he whispered._

"_Feel free to try," was her haughty response._

_The King brought his lips down on hers with a white hot intensity. His mouth was like a starving beast as it devoured her. First her lips, then her jaw, her neck. His hands ran furrows through her hair, his body pressed against her. _

_As he pulled back to regain his breath, he reached down and swept her into his arms. He carried her into the bedroom and laid her back on the luxurious mountain of pillows. She made no move to stop him, but neither did she respond to his caresses. _

_Her stony demeanor robbed him of his confidence and he moved cautiously, unsure of what to do. He kept his approaches light, questioning, treating her as if she were a delicate flower. Still he received no response. He kissed her neck and flicked his tongue down to the crevice between her breasts. He kissed and caressed each breast in turn, and still nothing. Finally she gripped his shoulders and raised a knee for leverage so she could push him off of her. He rolled over and looked somewhat startled as she moved to straddle his body. He was breathing heavily, she wasn't. _

"_Aren't you bored yet, Rupert? I certainly am," her voice was harsh and unbending. "If we're going to do this, at least make it worth the time and effort." _

Clarisse fell silent again. Joseph waited patiently.

She was staring at him this time. "Have you ever made love to an angry woman, Joseph?"

"Angry? No, my mother taught me never to go to bed angry. And I always listened to my mother," he replied seriously but his eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Your mother raised a smart son," she said with a wicked grin. "Rupert's mother didn't train him nearly as well. It took weeks for the scratches to heal. I was still seething even after it was over. I kicked him out of bed and sent him packing back to his rooms. He was still walking gingerly when he passed the guards outside my door."

Joseph laughed out loud. "Oh God," he laughed, wiping his eyes. "You are not a woman to be trifled with. There's a dangerous fire burning under that icy demeanor."

"You're very observant, Joseph. It took Rupert years to realize that."

"I've spent years studying you," Joseph admitted, trailing the back of his hand down her cheek before running his fingers around to the nape of her neck. "And yet, I have so much more to learn."

He leaned in to kiss her, meeting her lips gently, exploring the softness of her mouth with his own lips. She leaned towards him with a soft moan and opened her mouth slightly, inviting a deeper exploration. She didn't touch him, except with her mouth. He followed her lead and didn't move his hand from the back of her neck, concentrating only on the kiss and the dance of their tongues together.

Unable to keep his body still any longer, his hand clutched at the fabric of the couch cushion. The hand that rested on her neck began to move on a downward path towards her shoulder. He moaned into her open mouth, then felt her smile against his lips as she started to pull away.

"Clarisse," he murmured. "Please don't stop."

She continued to move slowly away from him. He opened his eyes and looked at her imploringly. She continued to smile as she slowly shook her head, and settled back on the cushions.

"I haven't finished my story."

"Clarisse…" he whined. "Please…"

"Please finish the story? Certainly!"

He pretended to glare at her. "You are a horrible tease."

"That's true. And it's one of the reasons you need to know what you are letting yourself in for if you and I pursue this relationship," she said.

He took a deep breath, a somewhat shaky breath. "Ok. I'm listening. How long was it before you were on speaking terms again after that night?"

"Well, breakfast the next morning was a little tense."

"I bet!"

"He was somewhat contrite, but I wasn't ready to talk. I wasn't sure what I wanted from him at that point. Later that day I went to his office to speak to him…"


	5. Chapter 5

"_Come," was Rupert's perfunctory answer to the knock at his door. His back was to the door and he studied the view outside his window. The King's office faced the front of the palace and the view of the splendid lawns and huge fountain seemed to have captured his interest for the moment. _

_She crossed the room quietly to stand in front of his desk, arms crossed. He slowly turned his chair to face her. _

"_Good afternoon," he said stiffly. _

_She didn't reply for a few moments. "What do you want, Rupert?" she finally asked._

"_You came to me, darling," the last word was tinged with sarcasm. "What do you want?"_

"_A truce," she said as she sat down. She crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt over her knees. "I know I couldn't divorce you, even if I wanted to. Truthfully, I don't want to. There is too much at stake. But things have to change."_

_Rupert didn't reply at first. He studied his hands that were now clasped on his desk. He met her eyes as he finally spoke. "I don't want to lose you Clarisse. I know this sounds like a lie, but this was never about you. It's about me."_

_Clarisse's gaze hardened slightly. "That's the problem, Rupert. You operate under the mistaken notion that what you do in private effects only you."_

"_You're right of course. But please believe me that it was only about sex, Clarisse. It wasn't about you or us or anything else. You know our relationship is different; special, perhaps." He said the last bit somewhat hopefully._

"_We should've had this conversation years ago, Rupert. Perhaps that's my fault. I was just a naive, inexperienced child when we married. I didn't know what to say or do when you first started this mess. If I had spoken up then, maybe things would be different today."_

"_Maybe. Maybe not. Please understand, Clarisse, I know I hurt you. For that I am very, very sorry. But I was looking for something – release, power, call it what you like – that didn't have anything to do with you at the time. If I'd been thinking, instead of just reacting, I would've realized how hurt you would be if you found out."_

_She looked at him for a long moment before rising and moving to the windows. _

"_Did you ever consider that I might leave you?" she asked._

_He didn't answer right away. When she turned to see why he was so quiet, she started slightly to find that he was standing right behind her. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "No, I didn't consider it Clarisse. I don't want to consider it now, either."_

_She met his gaze coolly. _

"_Things can be different between us, Clarisse," he said. _

"_That is up to you, Rupert. I'm not going to chase after you like some wounded schoolgirl." With that she patted his chest and tried to hide her self-satisfied smile when he winced in response. "Make sure you take care of those scratches, darling. Wouldn't want them to get infected." With that she stepped past him and out of the office._

_Rupert stood watching her, surveying her retreating form while unconsciously, and rather gingerly, smoothing the front of his shirt. _

Joseph leaned forward, elbows on knees. Clarisse matched his posture. Joe looked at her and asked, "So is that when things changed? When you became friends?" As he spoke his eyes drifted down to the front of her shirt. It gaped open at an alluring angle, affording him a magnificent view. She was staring down at her hands and didn't notice his eyes.

"No, not quite." She sighed and stood up. Joseph's eyes followed her as she walked over to her desk. She leaned back on the edge of the desk and regarded her listener lazily through lowered lashes. She crossed her arms over her chest. He sat back again, stretching out against the cushions.

"Things were quiet for a while. Rupert and I both concentrated on work, but I made an effort with him. I tried to be more of a wife, instead of just a business partner. He seemed to appreciate it."

"But I wasn't putting all my eggs in that basket, either," she said. "There were plenty of times he had the opportunity to slip back into his old ways." She looked at Joseph directly then. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw tears in her eyes. "I got to the point where the stress of knowing what could happen was making me truly miserable. You can't believe how shallow the nobility can be, Joseph. There are so many women, beautiful women, with nothing to do with their time but primp and flirt. Being able to boast of bedding the King would be quite a social coup."

She took a deep breath. Joseph studied her, his expression openly curious. "I don't like who I was during those years. I was suspicious, callous. Rupert tried to behave, but he'd always attracted so much female attention. That didn't change and I guess he never learned how to walk away."

"You're making excuses for him, Clarisse. Does he really deserve that?" Joseph asked quietly.

"That's the problem. I don't really know what he deserves. And I don't really know what I deserve, either." Joseph started to answer her, but she kept speaking, now obviously trying to forestall his questions.

"I remember one time when we'd been to a fashion show in Paris. One of the designers was a Genovian native, so we'd been asked to attend the opening. It was rather fun, until I caught Rupert in a side room chatting up Lady Chatham. He complimented her on her dress. She explained that is was one of the designer's originals. She directed his attention to the fetching way the bodice was laced. It accentuated her 'assets', I think she called them, and pointed out that she couldn't remove it without help. He was too enthralled to notice that I had entered the room and was standing right beside them. Lady Chatham knew, of course. It just didn't stop her. What did she have to lose?"

"What did you do?" Joseph asked.

"I cleared my throat and he finally dragged his eyes away from her chest. He tried to cover by saying something about what a nice dress it was, and didn't I think I would like one of my own. I told him I appreciated the thought, but that I didn't particularly want artificial 'asset' enhancement. But I complimented Lady Chatham on what a marvelous difference the enhancements had made for her. I think I mentioned something about how she might actually be able to cast a shadow in that dress."

Joseph snickered.

She seemed not to notice. "I was angry at being reduced to making insults as a means to reel him back from the edge. It was cheap." She paused and the clock on her mantel began to strike the hour.

"Damn!" Joseph rose from his seat. "The guards changed shift an hour ago. They are going to have plenty to talk about if they catch me sneaking out of here at this time of night." His voice betrayed his frustration. "I'm sure the last shift has informed them that I am in here."

She waved him off, indicating that he should resume his seat. "Don't worry about it. You can use the dumbwaiter."

He raised an eyebrow in question. "There's no dumbwaiter in here. I've seen the blueprints."

"This is different. It's not on the plans. It's really more of a secret elevator, I guess. It works on a pulley system. It runs from my shoe closet to the library downstairs. Rupert's mother showed it to me when I moved in here. She said his great-grandmother had it built."

"You're must be joking! And you've never told anyone?" Joseph asked incredulously.

"No, although, Rupert almost found out about it, once. There is actually a problem with it. You can go down, but something is broken with one of the pulleys and you can't pull yourself up in it. Rupert's mother said it had broken when she was using it. She couldn't very well have it fixed without admitting its existence, so it is a one way route now."

Joseph was still standing and now he crossed his arms and tried to glower at her. "Tell me, Your Majesty, how often do you use this means of escaping your tower and avoiding your security?"

"Not very often, honestly. Being able to get to the library unnoticed might have been the start of absolute freedom for the Queen a few generations ago, but with the way the palace is secured now, it just means someone will find me as soon as they check the camera scans. Generally I use it when I can't sleep and I want to read." She smiled at Joseph. "You've caught me in there so many times, late in the evening, that I was really beginning to wander if you hadn't found it and put a sensor on the hidden door."

He stepped closer and looked down into her eyes. "No, I had no idea," he said. "I just have a sensor in my head that goes off when you are having a bad day. I knew to go looking for you on those evenings, just to see if you wanted to talk."

Her eyes twinkled warmly in the soft light. "I never wanted to just talk to you, Joseph. But talking is all that we ever seem to do."

"I hate talking, sometimes," he said huskily. He felt his body leaning in towards hers.

She stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Fine, then. Just listen. Listening is something you are extraordinarily good at."

"I'm extraordinarily good some other things, too," he replied.

"Joseph, please!" Her voice was partially pleading, partially amused. He grinned at her and turned around to sit back down on the couch.

"Very well, I will listen," he said formally. "But I don't have to like it," he growled. "How did Rupert come to find out about your dumbwaiter?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Well, he never actually figured it out; I just surprised him in the library one evening. He was too engrossed in his activity to notice the manner of my arrival."

"What was he – oh." Joseph looked somewhat chagrined.

"Yes, 'oh'. He had another young, lanky blonde backed up against the bookcase. His face was buried in her chest and her skirt was hiked up around her waist when I opened the door. Neither one of them saw me. She was trying to get him, um, ready and he was having all kinds of fun with her. And no matter what he tried, he just wasn't able to, well, perform. I stood there completely frozen for what seemed like an hour. I guess it was really just a few minutes. Everything seemed so unreal. It was like watching a horrible movie. I couldn't stand to watch - it made me physically sick - but I couldn't look away."

She closed her eyes as if shutting out the pictures in her head. "I didn't know what to do – I couldn't go back up in the dumbwaiter and if I moved towards the door, they were sure to see me. Finally, I just walked right up to them. I tapped her on the shoulder and asked if she could move a little to the left because the book I wanted was right behind her head."

Joseph laughed out loud, breaking the tension. "You must have scared them to death, Clarisse!"

She smiled and said, "It certainly put a damper on their evening. She had big blue eyes and I'll never forget the way she looked at me. I was afraid her eyes were going to pop right out of her head!"

"Short hair?"

"What? Well, yes, I think so." Clarisse was confused by the question.

Joseph nodded in reply, then asked, "What did Rupert do?"

"He looked at me as if he could have killed someone right then – I don't know who; me, her, himself. I was just lucky he had his hands full."

"Oh, Clarisse, that's…" Joseph grinned.

"Horrible. I know. I walked out of the room, then ran back up here. I couldn't believe this was happening again, right in my own home. I wanted to kill him, to hurt him, but all I could do was sit here and cry. And think. Eventually, seeing the two of them together like that helped me to understand part of what was going on."

"It sounds pretty obvious – he was cheating on you. Again." Joseph sounded somewhat weary of the subject.

"That wasn't all that was going on. He wasn't able to 'seal the deal' with this girl. It was obvious. And when I saw that, I began to put some pieces together. He was having more and more trouble performing, Joseph. Even with me. I began to suspect that he was doing some of this as a means to try to prove to himself that he was still…virile."

Joseph shook his head angrily. "It doesn't excuse anything, Clarisse. It doesn't make it any less wrong."

She smiled warmly at him. "Oh, I know, Joseph. Trust me, I know that. I wasn't nearly so altruistic at the time. But I started to pay more attention. Unfortunately, that wasn't always a good thing. It cost me my taste for whipped cream."

"I'm afraid to ask how," Joseph said with raised eyebrows.

"It happened months later and was actually the last time I caught him with another woman. Rupert was on edge. He'd come to see me the night before and I had the distinct impression that he wanted more than just my opinion on the agenda for his summit meeting later on in the week. I was amenable, but he didn't do anything other than kiss me a few times. I didn't know how to take it quite honestly.

"The next day at lunch, we dined with visiting diplomats, Lord and Lady Sparre. We had a lot in common. He was older, she was younger. They had two teenaged children. We knew many people in common. They were very friendly, both of them. And Rupert was at his most charming. He was sending out feelers. And I knew - I knew! - what was going to happen. I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap her and yell a warning to Lord Sparre. And I wanted to kill Rupert.

"But there was nothing that could be done. How do you say 'I'm sorry, sir, but you should know that my husband plans to cuckold you before the day is out? So very sorry about that.'

"I tried to keep close to Rupert for the rest of the day, but I had a couple of meetings I simply couldn't miss. I thought about telling Charlotte to clear my schedule, but again, what could I do? 'Charlotte, be a dear and clear my calendar. I'm penciling Rupert in for the rest of the afternoon. I'll be tying him to my bed in hopes of keeping him from screwing the houseguests.'"

Joseph laughed at this.

"Rupert was tact itself while I was there. He made no mention of Lady Sparre. He was attentive, funny, and thoroughly pleasant to be around. He knew I would be leaving. I returned from my meetings as soon as I could. When I arrived, Rupert was having tea with the two of them in the garden. He looked at me like he could read my mind and was shocked by my baseless suspicions.

"He was well behaved throughout the rest of the day and the evening. I finally let my guard down and retired to my suite a few hours after dinner, leaving Rupert reading in his sitting room.

"Joseph, I'd been in my room for less than a half hour before I decided to go downstairs for a cup of tea and something to eat. I hadn't eaten much dinner. I stopped when I passed the broom closet. I hated myself for it, but I had to open that door – just to make sure.

"Of course, there was no one inside and I felt like an idiot. I was angry at him, and at myself. The stress was getting to me. I just wanted to crawl upstairs and into my bed and rest. I turned around to leave, then remembered I was hungry. I decided to just grab a tin of biscuits and go back upstairs.

"I will never, never forget that scene when I opened the door. She was lying back on the kitchen table and didn't have on a stitch of clothing. There was whipped cream on her breasts and her…well, elsewhere. Rupert was making a great show of ever so slowly licking it off her nipples. She was writhing around on the table.

"I just reacted. I slapped Rupert as hard as I could across the face. He was so shocked he didn't even speak. She at least had the decency to scream. I drew my arm back slap him again but he caught hold of my wrist and wouldn't let go. That caused the whipped cream on his hand to spray over my face. I could taste it and I thought I was going to be sick.

"I turned my attention to Lady Sparre. She seemed genuinely frightened. I hissed at her for her to get out - out of my kitchen, my home, and my country. She tried to gather up her clothes, but I told her to leave them. She hadn't needed them before, she didn't need them then. Rupert just stood there, still gripping my arm.

"I don't know where she went. She crept out of that kitchen stark naked. I never saw her again.

"Naturally, I was a bit unhappy with my husband.

Joseph snorted derisively.

"But I also noticed he hadn't even bothered to remove his clothing. He was playing, teasing, and yet there was no evidence that it had done anything for him. I noticed this, but it didn't make me any less angry.

"He just stared at me. His silence infuriated me even more.

"I screamed at him and told him how much I hated him for that and all the other times. He said he knew that and he wouldn't insult me by begging forgiveness. Then he walked away. He just dropped my arm and walked away." Her voice almost broke with emotion.

This time Joseph was sure he saw tears brimming in her eyes. He sat silently for a moment, giving her a chance to regain her composure.

"Clarisse, why did you stay?" Joseph asked quietly.

She didn't answer right away and seemed to be struggling with finding the right words. Finally she threw up her hands and said, "Because it was for the best, Joseph. That is the tragedy. It was for the best for everyone - everyone but me."

Joseph heard the strain in her voice. He said nothing but reached out and took her in his arms. He pulled her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. She sighed and seemed to burrow further into his arms. She was almost childlike as she clung to him, happy to hide in the cocoon of his embrace.


	7. Chapter 7

**I know I'm dragging this out unmercifully. I would apologize, but I warned you up front about this story, didn't I? And yet, here you are...**

**I will apologize for this chapter being terribly short. Tonight I will finish tweaking the ending and will post a longer final chapter - hopefully tomorrow. And maybe all will be forgiven. Or maybe you will just end up frustrated and unfulfilled and want to choke the life outta me. Heh, heh...**

OOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They sat in silence.

After a while, Clarisse spoke again.

"It was almost a year before I said another civil word to him, unless we were in public. It was a long, hard year. For both of us. Eventually, I grew tired of being angry. It wasn't doing anything other than making me sick. Sick and old. Rupert tried to be friendly to me and I finally accepted his gestures. Things improved. I knew something was going on with him, but he hadn't confided in me. It took a while, bu I eventually learned the truth."

Again Clarisse replayed the memory in her mind while telling Joseph the story.

_Clarisse was tired and she was in a terrible mood. The King of Spain was dining at the palace that evening and Rupert had left her to make the arrangements. She had finished that chore and decided to stroll the garden for a while before tackling her remaining paperwork. _

_On her way outside, she walked past Rupert's sitting room and almost collided with the doctor as he hurried out the door. The man apologized profusely while bending low over her outstretched hand. He wouldn't meet her gaze. _

_Confused by both the presence of the physician and the man's attitude towards her, she knocked on the door to Rupert's suite. He didn't respond until her second knock. She finally opened the door. _

_Rupert was pouring himself a drink and didn't turn to see who was at his door. _

"_Rupert?" she asked rather quietly. "Is something wrong?"_

_He turned quickly, too quickly to make his nonchalant reply plausible. "Nothing my dear. The doctor just wanted to check my blood pressure. Routine."_

"_How is your blood pressure? The doctor appeared concerned when he left."_

"_I'm fine, Clarisse. Please let it be."_

_She gave a frustrated sigh. "Don't insult my intelligence like that. What is wrong?"_

_Rupert set down his glass with enough force to slosh the liquid out onto the table. "Enough Clarisse! It is nothing!"_

_She eyed him coldly. "Don't lie to me Rupert. If you don't tell me I will make it my business to find out on my own."_

_Rupert turned away from her. His breathing was loud and angry. She waited patiently until he turned back around. His dark brows were drawn tightly together and his eyes blazed at her. _

"_I have a disease Clarisse. Nothing fatal, but incurable. The doctor today told me that within the next few months or years it will result in total impotence." He glowered at her, daring her to react. "I've no doubt you of all people will appreciate the irony of this."_

_Clarisse stepped back involuntarily. She could almost feel the force of his emotions. "It's not fatal?" she asked at length. _

_Rupert shook his head._

_An idea occurred to her and her hand slipped unbidden to her throat. "How… how did you… contract this?"_

"_Oh, God, Clarisse! How stupid do you think I am? I may be unfaithful, but I'm not careless," he roared at her. _

"_How dare you raise your voice to me?" Her icy voice was a stark contrast to his. "I, of all people, deserve to know what is going on with you. And once again, you are concerned with no one but yourself. Forgive me a twinge of selfishness in worrying what sorts of diseases you may have contracted from your various whores."_

"_Whores? That is an egregious accusation Clarisse! I may have committed a few indiscretions, but it is hardly fair to accuse me of pandering with prostitutes! I do care enough about you not to risk some thing like that!"_

"_You care about me? You have an extremely warped way of showing it, darling!"_

"_That's what bother's you, isn't it Clarisse?" Rupert was smiling now, a hard, angry smile. "You can't except that I can care about you and confine my relationships with other women merely to the satisfaction of a few carnal desires."_

"_And how would you feel if I did the same, Rupert?" _

"_Haven't you, my dear? You are continually surrounded by handsome men who would love nothing more than to pleasure their Queen. And what about your budding security detail? All those handsome bodyguards rotating in and out of service with you. Who is it this month, Clarisse? Hans? How is his service to the crown going?"_

_She gasped out loud. "You bastard!" Her voice cracked and she turned on her heel, poised to run from the room. Rupert reached out and grabbed her arm. _

"_I'm sorry," he said. She wouldn't turn to face him. "Please, Clarisse. I know that was uncalled for."_

_He could see the anger mixed with hurt in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said again, releasing her arm. _

"_I made a vow, I took an oath Rupert. I've never broken that vow. God only knows why." She took a deep breath. "Let's try this again. What is wrong with you, Rupert?"_

_He sighed and sat down on the couch, motioning for her to join him. He explained the specifics of the disease. He explained that it was the cause of his lowered sperm count. He knew it was a genetic disease inherited from his mother's side of the family. This was why he'd been so worried he couldn't father children. Over time the disease shuts down the reproductive system and eventually the patient becomes totally impotent. She listened quietly. When he finished, she asked "How long has this problem been going on?" _

"_Years, I suppose. It's not bad yet, but there are times I can tell that things are not working as they should. And it's getting worse. You hadn't noticed?"_

_His question caught her by surprise. They hadn't been intimate very often in recent years. "Not when you were with me, no." She allowed herself a small rueful smile at the vague diplomacy of her answer. "So what happens now?"_

"_That's a loaded question, Clarisse. I don't really know what happens now." They sat in silence for a few moments. He mustered enough courage to steal a glance at her stoic profile. She seemed to be engrossed in a thoughtful study of the coffee table. "Maybe you could try to cure me?" he asked in a purposefully timid voice. _

_She looked over at him, trying to hide the smile his comment inspired. "Not bloody likely, dear." _

Clarisse could feel Joseph's silent laughter when she related that final comment to him.

Then she felt his hand slide around her throat. His thumb turned her chin to face him. He gave her an amused but piercing stare.

"You are indeed a thoughtless tease, woman," he growled at her.

She tried not to let him see how much the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand had affected her. It all but made her toes curl. His wicked grin seemed to say that he was well aware of the effect he had on her. She tried to wriggle away, but his arms locked her in.

"Going somewhere?" he asked in the same low growl.

"No," she replied somewhat more meekly than she'd intended. He gave a soft laugh and leaned in towards her moist lips.

She spoke quickly.

"You're the reason I slept with him the final time."


	8. Chapter 8

Joseph stopped and opened his eyes to glare at her. "I don't care," he said and continued his progress toward his goal.

Clarisse buried her face in his chest, avoiding the kiss. "It's true," she said in a muffled voice. She felt his heavy sigh.

"Ok," he said. "Finish the damn story."

She laughed nervously and began to speak.

_Two days after their conversation about the King's health, Clarisse and Rupert attended the swearing in ceremony of new palace guards. This included a promotion ceremony for several of the existing guard members. _

_Hans, who had been the Queen's most recent bodyguard, was leaving work at the palace to become head of household security for one of the members of parliament. Clarisse was not sad to see him go. He had been an effective bodyguard but he had the conversational skills of a piece of furniture. His wooden presence had been a source of strain for the Queen. She disliked ignoring those around her but Hans seemed to prefer it that way. She was tired of dealing with him. _

_She hadn't complained, but the head of security had heard all about it from Hans himself. He was evidently as unhappy with the situation as she was. When the Queen was informed of the change in her bodyguard she asked who would be replacing Hans. She was given a name – Joseph. _

_She knew who he was. He'd been on the security force at the palace almost a year. He had even occasionally been her driver. He was often a subject of gossip among the maids. She didn't know anything about him, other than he was quiet and respectful. The one thing she remembered most about him was his eyes. Whenever his job brought him into contact with her, she always noticed his eyes. His gaze was markedly intelligent and alert. He was quick to anticipate her needs when he worked with her. She couldn't remember him ever speaking to her, but there were several times she observed his amused eyes as he watched the scenes unfolding around him. The humor she saw reflected there matched her own inner thoughts at times and she was frankly somewhat fascinated by his silent demeanor. His silence, which communicated volumes, was so very different from the wooden silence of Hans. _

_Clarisse was excited, for the first time in her memory, by the prospect of a new bodyguard. _

_As night fell, she retired to her rooms and changed into a soft, flowing gown and wrapped a matching robe loosely around her shoulders. It was a gorgeous evening and she couldn't help stepping out onto her balcony to survey the night sky before curling up in bed with a good book. _

_When she looked out over the grounds, her eyes stopped on a patch of lawn, illuminated by the soft landscape lights. She could see a man clothed in black. He seemed to be dancing. After watching a few moments she realized he was going through a series of complicated Karate forms. She also realized who it was – Joseph. He had moved into the palace earlier that day._

_She leaned out over the balcony railing. She was enchanted by the lithe movements of his body, almost like those of a ballet dancer. Her gaze was locked on his body as it shifted through the pools of dim light. His movements were fluid and smooth. Her heart beat loudly and her breath was shallow and quickened as she watched. It was a thrilling tableau. He was obviously an expert and her appreciation for the scene was limited to an artistic appreciation for the beauty of expression and movement capable in the human form. _

_Or so she told herself. _

_Clarisse found herself wondering how often he practiced like this. She leaned a little further over the balcony. Her bodyguard continued leap and twirl, making her oblivious to the warmth of her bed or the beckoning of her novel. There was a full moon and the moonlight seemed to infuse his body with light as he moved quietly below her. _

_The breeze picked up and stirred the hem of her gown, billowing it slightly around her bare feet. The moonlight reflected from her hair, giving it a halo-like sheen. _

"_What a lovely sight," a voice behind her said._

_Startled, she whirled to see her husband standing at the open French doors. _

"_Oh! Rupert! I didn't expect – are you -- did you want me for something?" she asked falteringly._

_He didn't seem to notice her flustered state. He appeared to be staring at her, but not really connecting with her gaze. _

"_You look beautiful, Clarisse," he said softly. _

"_Th-thank you, Rupert." She stepped away from the balustrade. He stepped out on the balcony to meet her. "Was there something you needed?"_

_He smiled wistfully and said, "I came to see if you had the report from the Agriculture Committee that we were going over this afternoon," he said._

"_No, I gave it to Charlotte when we finished. It will be in her office somewhere. Do you really need it tonight?"_

"_No. That's ok." He looked at her for a moment, then reached up to affectionately push a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I love your hair Clarisse. It is the most beautiful color. Especially in the moonlight." His voice was soft and sincere._

"_Oh, well, thank you again, my dear." She was still agitated. Not by his presence, but something else. Her heart had been beating faster for several moments before she'd first turned and seen him in her room. She felt somewhat light-headed. _

_Rupert gazed down at his wife's face. Her eyes were sparkling, her skin slightly flushed. She was gorgeous. He couldn't help himself. Slowly he reached out and took her face in his hands and tenderly kissed her. She didn't pull away. _

Clarisse stopped her narrative, suddenly embarrassed by what she was telling Joseph. She was normally never so forthcoming about her feelings or her personal life. They had crossed a line this night and both of them knew it. Suddenly she felt herself growing nervous and anxious. His proximity was beginning to tear at her nerve endings and she stood to move away from him once more, crossing the room to stand in front of the unlit fireplace. The imposing portrait of the royal couple loomed over her as she closed her eyes and silently remembered how the rest of that evening played out.

_Clarisse was surprised at the look in Rupert's eyes as he bent his head to wards hers. He hadn't looked at her like that in years – so tender, yet heated. She closed her eyes as his lips met hers. Just as they touched, the face of her new bodyguard appeared before her mind's eye; his bemused expression, his sensuous mouth. Would it feel like this to kiss him? Her mind was curiously torn between the sensations of kissing her husband and the vision of the face of her bodyguard. His expressive brown eyes danced before her. She could see the warm grays peppering his beard and all but hiding the laugh lines around his mouth. His mouth, so expressive, so –_

_She couldn't believe she was having those thoughts. She resolutely forced them from her mind. Rupert deepened the kiss, and slowly took possession of her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers. Suddenly all her thoughts centered on him and what he was doing to her body. His hands took hold of the collar of her robe and slipped if off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He moved his arms to her waist and pulled her against his body. She struggled to keep her balance as he bent her over backward so he could attack her neck. They stepped back together, as if planned, and he pressed her against the railing. She groaned and spread her arms to grasp the rail on either side of her body. He trailed his fingers down the length of her bare arms, to rest them on top of her hands, while continuing to kiss her neck and jaw line._

_He moved a hand to her thigh and began to work the fabric of her gown up her leg. She put a hand on his to stop his progress, then gripped his shoulders and pushed him back. "Rupert, we should go inside – what if someone sees…"_

"_I don't care," he murmured and began to slide her gown off her shoulders baring more of her creamy skin to his attentions. She moaned again and felt the strength leave her legs. She leaned in to him. _

_Holding her against him with one arm, his eyes searched the balcony. A chaise sat to one side. He pulled the cushion from it and dropped it on the balcony floor. He grinned at Clarisse and swept an arm under her legs, lifting her off her feet, only to lay her gently on the cushion. _

_He knelt at her side while he removed his jacket and tie. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it free of his trousers. He wadded it up and threw it over the edge of the balcony._

"_Have you lost your mind, Rupert?" _

"_Quite possibly," he said, staring down at her. "I know I've committed my transgressions and treated you shamefully, Clarisse. But you've always had an uncanny ability to make my blood boil."_

_She laughed - a throaty, husky sound - and opened her arms to him. His smiled and lowered his body over hers. Clarisse lost herself in the moment, forgetting the anger she had carried towards her husband for so long. Rupert continued his attentions to her body as he had rarely, if ever, done before. His hands worked like magic and she found herself unable to remain quiet under his ministrations, no matter how hard she bit her tongue. He laughed softly, expressing his delight in her evident pleasure. _

_The breeze tickled her skin in delicious places. She let her hands roam freely over his body, leaving a web of small scratch marks across his exposed skin. He groaned his delight at this but she sensed that his body wasn't responding as well as his mind. _

_Clarisse decided to take matters into her own hands._

_Rupert groaned again as her touch sent shockwaves of electricity through his body. Eventually her attentions proved effective and his physical response was sufficient. Rupert whispered her name as he wrapped his arms around his wife and rolled her underneath his body. Their lovemaking was slow and sensuous, mimicking the many times they had waltzed together across a ballroom floor. He seemed to worship her body as he made love to her. Somewhere deep in her mind she realized that this was his apology. _

_Later they lay exposed on the balcony floor. The breeze had cooled and she shivered at its touch. Rupert reached for her discarded robe and covered her exposed skin with it._

"_I'm sorry, Clarisse," he whispered. "I know my performance has been, rather, well, lacking."_

"_Tonight? Or in general?" she teased lightly, stroking his chest. _

_He smiled and again his eyes took on a wistful longing. "Both, I suppose." He was quiet for several moments. He trailed his hand down the side of her face. "I know I've made a mess of things, my dear. I won't make excuses. But I can make you a promise."_

_Clarisse sighed and closed her eyes. "I don't really want a promise, Rupert. We've done that, remember?"_

"_What do you want, then?"_

"_I don't know. I'm just tired of being angry with you."_

_He looked down at her tenderly and then gave a mock salute. "What if I try to do my best to refrain from angering you in the future?"_

"_That is extremely weak, Your Majesty," she laughed._

"_I am apparently beset with weakness, these days," he said ruefully. He offered her his hand. "Do we have a deal, partner?"_

"_Deal," she agreed and shook his hand before collapsing in laughter on his chest._

Clarisse turned, finally, to face her companion. "So, we made love and we made peace that night," she said.

"And I made a trip to the laundry room," he murmured. He raised himself from the couch and joined her in front of the fireplace.

"What?"

"The laundry room. Someone threw a shirt off a balcony and it landed on my head. It was a very nice shirt, but not really my color. So, I tried to find where it had come from. I, ahem, noticed two people having a very good time on your balcony, so I decided the best thing to do was just to turn it in to the laundry staff."

She looked a him uncomprehendingly at first, then burst into laughter. She buried her face in her hands and moaned, "I knew someone would catch us! There is no privacy in this place!"

He wrapped her in his arms and she could feel his chest shake as he shared her laughter. After a few moments, he spoke again. "You said that was the last time you made love?" he asked quietly.

She didn't look up, but nodded against his chest. "It takes two to tango and he couldn't hear the music anymore," she said.

Joseph chuckled at her remark. "That was the first night I moved into the palace, which was…" his voice trailed off as he counted the years.

"Which was a long damn time ago," she said, her voice firmer. She pulled back to look at him. "Now do you understand, Joseph? Do you understand why I've been so reluctant to get involved with you or with anyone? Love has brought me nothing but pain."

"Nothing?" he asked as he nuzzled her neck.

She shrugged. "It feels like nothing sometimes."

Taking her firmly by the arm, he led her back to the couch. He sat and pulled her down next to him, holding her tightly around the waist. He nudged her with his arm until she looked directly at him.

"Love brought you two wonderful sons."

"Yes, it did," she agreed. "But even that caused me pain, Joseph. I lost both of them, in a way. Pierre is only just beginning to make his way back into my life. He's been hurt, too."

"And you love him."

"I love him. So much so that it hurts."

He grinned at her stubbornness. "And what about the granddaughter who adores you?"

Clarisse tried not to smile at the mention of Mia. "Perhaps you noticed the upheaval I've caused in her life? I worry that once she comes of age and realizes what I have gotten her into, she'll never speak to me again."

Joseph rolled his eyes at her. "And you had a husband who was terribly in love with you and just didn't know how to show it."

"What do you mean? We became very close in those last years, certainly. We were great friends and I loved that and I miss that. But he was never in love with me."

"Wasn't he? Think about all the women he chose to be with Clarisse. Who did they all look like?"

She thought for a moment then the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. "He had a thing for blondes."

"He had a thing for you." This time his voice was serious.

She looked at him for a long moment. He met her thoughtful gaze unflinchingly. "If, and I emphasize _if_, that is true; he certainly had a bizarre way of showing it," she said.

Joseph chuckled softly. "I'm not foolish enough to tell you that love is ever present without pain, Clarisse. But that doesn't mean you should give up. Life goes on. You should too."

He leaned forward and deliberately, purposefully kissed her on the cheek. "You should too," he repeated and kissed the other cheek.

She closed her eyes. "Two lost children, one feckless husband, and now you. Is that what love has in store for me, Joseph?" He continued to kiss her face, lips brushing her eyelids, her chin. "How will love make me describe you, Joseph, if I give in to you?" she whispered.

"You'll just call me Joseph." And with that he attacked her lips.

"Joseph" she murmured. She turned to meet his embrace, and together they stretched out along the length of the couch. "But that's what I've always called you," she said, propping herself up on his chest with her forearms.

"Exactly, Clarisse." He smiled up at her and tapped her nose affectionately with the end of his finger. "Nothing will change between us. You aren't losing a friend by gaining a lover. I can't imagine loving you more than I do right now. My greatest desire is to show you the depth of that love. You'll never have cause to regret this, my dear," he said solemnly. "Now, will you please shut up?"

She grinned and ever so slowly lowered her mouth to his. He groaned as she grasped his shirt and tore at the buttons. His hands traveled down the sides of her body, causing her exquisite shivering. He reached the hem of her nightshirt and reversed direction, this time moving beneath the fabric. She moaned his name again and molded her body more perfectly with his.

Joseph reached out with his foot and pushed the coffee table out of the way. He grasped Clarisse's slim form securely and gently rolled them off the couch onto the floor. The last few buttons holding his shirt closed were soon undone and she pushed the fabric back, exposing his chest to the lamplight. She studied his body silently, her expression betraying her indecision and a touch of anxiety. He waited patiently for a few moments before speaking, "Is it that bad?"

The sound of his voice seemed to startle her. "Ooh, it's not bad at all," she whispered. She ran her hand over the skin of his chest. "You are a gorgeous man," she said in a throaty voice. She looked into his eyes then and he could see that the last traces of doubt erase themselves from her face. She leaned into him and began to kiss his neck, her mouth hot against his skin. As she traced his pulse with her tongue, her fingernails traced a pathway down his body, resting lightly on his abdomen. Then she moved her hand again, this time tantalizingly tweaking the skin at his waist. His body to jerked involuntarily at her touch and he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take without pinning her down and ravishing her unmercifully.

He ran his hand through her hair, grasping just hard enough to pull her back from his neck. "Do you realize what you do to me, woman?" he growled. She swallowed apprehensively at what she saw in his eyes.

When she didn't answer, he grabbed her almost roughly and rolled over so that she was pinned beneath him. He held her wrists tightly, just above her head. She shifted slightly. The feel of her moving under his body almost sent him over the edge.

He gritted his teeth and rasped, "This is not a game, Clarisse. If we do this, this is forever."

"I'll take nothing less than forever, Joseph. I tired of games years ago."

He kissed her, long and hard. She gasped aloud when he finally released her to draw breath. Desire flashed in her eyes and she returned his kiss with a fury of her own. The passion between them grew even stronger. Clarisse touched the cool metal of his belt buckle. She was momentarily distracted from his kiss as she worked to undo the buckle. She managed, at last, to help him divest himself of the last of his clothing.

He yanked her nightshirt open and drew his mouth along her shoulder and down the front of her chest. She whimpered softly as he tasted her body. His physique practically pulsed with delight.

Her body registered the touch of his hands on the tops of her thighs. She kissed the taunt muscles of his chest as his hands moved higher. His fingertips tenderly brushed her skin, driving daggers of desire deep into the core of her being. His lips followed his hands and soon her body was on fire like never before.

Joseph knew exactly what he was doing to her. He planned to torture her just as long as she had tortured him this evening. His body screamed for release but he wouldn't give in; he was determined to make her want him just as badly as he wanted her. His lips pressed one final, featherlight kiss to her flushed skin and she moaned aloud, her nails digging in to the skin of his back. He smiled with relief, knowing he'd achieved his goal. At long last he joined his body with hers.

Clarisse clung tightly to her bodyguard, her friend, and now her lover. "I'll always call you Joseph,' she whispered, voicing her last coherent thought.

_The End. _

_(Well, not really, I suppose. It's never really the end, but now it's your turn to use your imagination. Have a good time.)_


End file.
